ENT29 Dough Boys
by A Rhea King
Summary: Malcolm and Trip are kidnapped and brainwashed to believe they are soldiers in an alien war. Suffering from the flu, but determined to find his men, Archer goes in search of them.
1. Chapter 1

DOUGH BOYS

By A. Rhea King

**CHAPTER 1**

Archer gasped, relaxed, gasped and sneezed into the tissue in his hand. He sniffed as he wiped his nose. Archer watched Doctor Phlox sit down on the stool beside the bio-bed still reading a PADD in his hand.

"I have the Bastion virus, don't I?" Archer asked with a voice pinched by his stuffed sinuses.

Doctor Phlox chuckled, looking up at him. "No, Captain. For the sixth time since you've come in, the Bastion virus is only contagious to someone with canine, feline or anthropoid DNA, none of which you have."

"Some people believe we descended from apes." Archer coughed, closing his eyes when it flared his headache and aching body.

The doctor laughed. "So I've read, but you are millennia away from those ancestors and you have a rather typical variety influenza virus."

Archer looked down at Doctor Phlox, narrowing his eyes. "As in common, achy body, stuffy nose, coughing...flu?" Archer started coughing.

Doctor Phlox waited for him to stop coughing and catch his breath before commenting. "The influenza virus is common on earth and first discov--"

"I get it. How the hell'd I catch the flu out here?" Archer sneezed hard and started coughing again. "Why didn't a bioscan catch it?

"I would assume you caught it on one of your away missions and this isn't an identical strain that is found on earth. Since the bioscan is ninety-nine percent effective this apparently fell into the one percent the bioscan can't catch. However, I have been able to synthesize an antibiotic that appears quite effective." Doctor Phlox held up the hypospray. "Once a day for the next five days and you'll be good as new by next Friday."

Archer's voice squeaked when he attempted to raise it. "That's a week and a half!" He coughed hard a couple time. "I have to put up with this for a week and a half?"

"I'm afraid so. And there's more." Doctor Phlox stood.

"More?"

"You need to go to bed for at least three to four days so we can get your fever down from a hundred and two. You've run yourself ragged in the last couple months and you're immune system could certainly use all the help you can give it to fight this off."

"I can't leave the bridge for three days," Archer argued, trying to prevent a sneeze from erupting

Doctor Phlox snatched up a tissue and handed it to Archer. Archer grabbed it, sneezing hard into it. Doctor Phlox pressed the hypospray against Archer's neck.

"In that case, I will see you in four or five days in here." Doctor Phlox smiled, patting the bio-bed Archer was sitting on. "I'm sure you've become familiar with how comfortable one of my bio-beds are."

Archer glared sidelong at the doctor. "I can't leave my bridge for three days."

"Captain, your crew has commanded your ship for much longer when you were completely incapacitated. I believe they can handle it when you're only a companel call away."

"Yes," Archer croaked. "But--"

"Your quarters three to four days? Or my biobed for a week? Which will it be?"

"You're sure it's just the flu?"

"Yes."

"Is _this_ gonna spread?"

"It already has. At least nine crewmen have reported similar symptoms this morning, though not as extreme as yours. I'm working on a vaccination for the rest of the crew."

Archer nodded.

"Now, go tell T'Pol that you will be leaving the bridge in her capable hands and _go to bed_. I will check in on you in the morning."

Archer slid off the bio-bed, wincing when his headache sent spikes of pain down his neck.

"The headache will subside after a while," Doctor Phlox assured him.

Archer nodded as he walked toward the door.

"Remember, I always have an open bio-bed, Captain," Doctor Phlox called after him.

Archer mimicked in a mutter, "I have an open bio-bed."

#

Archer stirred when the companel beeped but he didn't move until it beeped a second time. He reached up and slapped a hand against it.

"What?" Archer croaked from under the comforter.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir. There's an incoming message from Starfleet command for you," a crewman said.

Archer pushed the comforter off his face. His headache, while not as intense as it was a day ago, was still nagging at him. Nothing the doctor gave him seemed to touch it. He could breath a little freer but his coughing and chills seemed determine to hang in for the long run. Doctor Phlox assured him that this would pass, but it was going to take time, maybe longer than he'd initially predicted.

"Put it through," Archer croaked.

Archer slid out of bed and started shivering. He pulled on a sweatshirt he'd discarded earlier but he was still chilled. Archer grabbed another sweatshirt and pulled it on as he walked over to his desk and sat down. He reached out and tapped the screen, then hugged himself to try to keep any more body heat from escaping. Admiral Garner appeared with a grim expression. When he saw Archer, his grim expression turned into a deep frown.

"You look like hell, Jon," the Admiral said.

"The flu." Archer sneezed followed by coughing.

"I'm going to really hate doing this to you then."

Archer tried to sit up straight but that sent spikes of pain into his eyes and neck. Archer hunched forward, hugging his arms to his chest as he shivered.

"Do what, sir?" Archer asked with a hoarse voice.

The Admiral leaned on his desk. "Jon, we were contacted yesterday by one of those Cardassians you tangled with a while back."

Archer didn't reply.

"He wants to meet with you. He says he has information about another mining world with Jit slaves. He wants latinum for the information. They asked to meet at the docking station on Rakix."

"We...don't have any latinum, sir." Archer broke into a coughing fit. He closed his eyes until a wave of dizziness passed.

"I know," Admiral Garner continued when Archer looked at him again, "We've contacted a freighter in your area and we've arranged a trade. They'll give you the latinum and when they reach Earth we'll settle the trade."

"How do you know this Cardassian can be trusted?"

"We don't. But we are interested in what's happening with these Jit. So are the Vulcans."

Archer pinched the bridge of his nose. "The freighter is Vulcan, isn't it, sir?"

The Admiral nodded. "Yes."

"Why aren't they meeting the Cardassian then?"

"He made it clear he would only talk to you."

Archer nodded. "I'll tell Captain Vardee."

"No," the Admiral said. "We discussed this prior to making any arrangements, Jon. You are not to tell her anything until you can confirm this information is real."

"Sir, with all due respect--"

"With all due respect, Captain Archer, are you prepared to deal with Captain Vardee racing off to save Jit only to find herself in a trap?"

"She hasn't offered to do anything risky since she found out she was pregnant, sir."

"And what if she does this time, Jon? Do you want to be responsible for that?

Archer winced as his headache spiked across his temples. It set off a chain reaction of aching through his body. Archer mentally argued with the Admiral, but replied, "No, sir." Archer broke into a string of coughs that made him lean over. He waited until the dizziness passed before sitting back up and looking at the monitor.

Admiral Garner continued, "The meeting coordinates are being transmitted now. Once you've validated the information, report back."

"Yes, sir," Archer answered.

"Good luck, Jon. I hope you get to feeling better."

"Thank you, sir," Archer answered.

The monitor went back to the Starfleet logo. Archer touched the companel beside the monitor. "Archer to helm."

"Yes, sir?" Travis replied.

"You should have just--" A painful string of coughs cut Archer off and it took him a few minutes to catch his breath and continue. "You should have just received coordinates from Starfleet."

"I did, sir," Travis answered

"Set course to the coordinates. Wake me when we're four hours out."

"Yes, sir."

"Archer out."

Archer got up and went back to bed, not bothering to take his sweatshirts off. He threw the comforter back over his head and dropped back to sleep.

#

Trip looked back at Archer sitting on his right in the navigation chair. "Ready for launch, Cap'n."

Archer nodded, resting his head against the back of the navigation chair. He closed his eyes against his headache for a moment. Whatever the doctor had given him had lowered his fever, cleared up his voice and stopped the coughing and sneezing, but it had only dulled his headache. The doctor assured him that what he had given Archer would conceal the virus running rampant in his body from the bioscanners, but only for two hours and that was being optimistic. It was going to take them a half hour to get to the docking station and cleared to land. Doctor Phlox warned Archer he'd have to act fast or be stuck on the station until he was dead or cured.

Trip turned, looking at Malcolm sitting at the back of the shuttle. "I'd ask if you were buckled in back there..." Trip grinned.

Malcolm chuckled. "But then, have no buckles."

Both men chuckled. Trip glanced at Archer, noticing he didn't find their joking amusing. Trip turned back to the controls.

"Ready to launch."

"Clear for launch, Commander Tucker," Travis said over the companel.

"Save me a piece of pie, Ensign," Trip joked.

"Will do, sir."

Trip smiled. He reached up and released the bay doors. The shuttle pod dropped from _Enterprise_, and he turned it around to head for the planet Rakix in the distance. Trip looked at Archer again. Archer looked a little paler than he had twenty minutes ago as they left Sickbay for the shuttle pod bay.

"You sure you're up to this, Cap'n?" Trip asked him.

Archer let out a soft sigh and nodded. Trip shrugged his eyebrows, looking back at the controls.

"When are you gonna tellin' us what this is about, Cap'n?" Trip asked.

"Just fly, Trip."

Trip glanced back at Malcolm sitting behind him on his left side. Malcolm offered a slight shrug of his shoulder in response to Trip's concerned look.

"Well, some shore leave will be nice," Trip commented, smiling as he looked back at Rakix.

"This isn't shore leave. Don't treat it like shore leave. Act like the military man you are, Commander," Archer snarled at Trip. Archer pressed one of the Jit's combadges onto his chest and initiated it. It beeped once.

Trip slowly looked back at Archer. Archer was pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, sir," Trip answered quietly, deciding to drop the conversation. Archer's unusual short temper had been going on since he'd come down with the flu and had grown shorter yesterday after he had met with Vulcan freighter captain.

Trip landed the shuttle pod on a landing pad and Malcolm and Trip stood up to get off the shuttle.

"Sit," Archer ordered them.

Both men sank back into their chairs without a word. Archer handed Trip him a small metal case and gave both men a Jit combadge.

"When I get what I want, we will turn around and we will walk out, return to the shuttle pod and leave. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," the men replied.

"When I tell you to, Trip, you will give them this case. If plans change at the last minute, no questions."

"Yes, sir," Trip answered.

Archer stood. "You both need to keep your eyes open and your phasers armed."

"Yes, sir," the two replied.

"Let's go," Archer walked to the side hatch and opened it. He stopped, looking back at the two. "And remember you are military officers and act it."

"Yes, sir," both men replied.

The three left the shuttle pod with Archer leading the way. They came to a crowd of people that bottlenecked into five bioscanners before entering the space dock merchant area beyond. Archer passed through the scanner, glancing at someone when his or her hand brushed against the back of his. The alien glanced at him as she pressed past Archer in a hurry to get through the line. Trip and Malcolm followed, quickly catching up to Archer and fall in behind him.

"I feel like we're being watched, sirs," Malcolm said.

Trip nodded. "By more than one species. You see those humanoids with green eyes?"

"Black, scaly skin and hooded cloaks?" Malcolm asked.

"Yeah."

"Hush," Archer quietly commanded his two officers, "Stay focused."

Trip and Malcolm fell silent. Archer entered a bar filled with a variety of aliens. Behind the bar two Ferengi were serving customers. At the back of the bar a group of aliens stood around a table that looked like a roulette table. At the head a tall, scantily dressed alien woman stood with a clear stick in her hand. The group suddenly yelled, "Dabo!" and there was cheering.

"Focus," Archer said, his voice cracking.

Malcolm and Trip looked at him. Malcolm looked back when someone pushed against him. An alien covered with a dark brown exoskeleton was watching him. The alien spoke in a language that was incomprehensible to him. Malcolm looked down when something touched his hand and pulled his hand back from the alien's tentacle. Malcolm hurried to catch up to Archer and Trip, glancing back at the alien.

Archer led them through the crowd to the back where two Cardassians were sitting. Archer sat down across from them, crossed one leg over the other and rested his hands on his leg. Malcolm and Trip exchanged concerned glances, but remained silent guards behind Archer.

"I requested to meet with you alone," the combadge translated the Cardassian's language for the men.

Archer lifted his chin. "Do you have it or not?"

The two Cardassians looked at one another. One slid a PADD across the table to Archer.

"Our latinum," the Cardassian demanded.

Archer picked up the PADD, reading over the information.

"Our latinum," the Cardassian demanded again.

Archer shook his head, tossing the PADD onto the table. "This isn't the information you promised. It's incomplete."

"It's all we have."

Archer stood. "Let me know when you have the information you promised Starfleet. Then we'll have something to exchange." Archer turned to walk away.

The Cardassians stood, reaching for their weapons. Malcolm and Trip drew their weapons faster, holding them on the Cardassians. Around them people scattered and the din of the bar fell silent for a few seconds.

Archer looked around at the crowd, saying, "If you shoot," Archer slowly looked around, meeting the Cardassians gazes, "my men will kill you."

The Cardassians slowly laid their weapons on the table.

"Now, we can make this an incident...or you can give me what this exchange was based on," Archer told the Cardassians a low voice. His voice was beginning to grow hoarse and crack the more he used it.

The Cardassian scowled. Trip stepped closer to Archer in response to the Cardassian quickly reaching behind his back. The Cardassian slowly pulled his hand around, holding up another PADD. He tossed the PADD on the table. Archer picked it up and scanned the information.

"Give 'em the case," Archer said, his voice much weaker now.

Trip sat the case on the table. The Cardassian grabbed it and opened it. He looked up at Archer and smiled.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Captain."

Archer turned and started toward the door. Malcolm and Trip backed up a few steps with their weapons still drawn. The two turned together and hurried to catch up with Archer. They found him outside the bar leaning against a wall. He was pinching the bridge of his nose to ease back the headache that was growing more intense, a sign that the drug Doctor Phlox had given him was wearing off.

When Archer spoke his voice was nearly spent, "We have to get out of here. Now." Archer turned, heading for the landing pad.

Trip glanced behind them. "Cap'n," Trip said.

Archer and Malcolm looked back. The Cardassians were talking to someone in a hooded cloak.

"Let's go," Archer said.

Trip turned and ran into someone. The alien grabbed Trip's wrist, shaking his free hand at Trip. Trip pulled back, moving around the alien. He looked back and the alien was still yelling and shaking his hand at Trip. He turned, following Archer and Malcolm back to the shuttle.

Archer dropped into the co-pilot's seat when they reached the shuttle, putting his forehead in his hand and massaging his temples.

"Take us home, Trip," Archer whispered.

"Aye, Cap'n," Trip said, initializing launch.

#

Malcolm sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. He felt Sista slide her arms over his shoulder and down his chest as she rested her chin on his shoulder. Malcolm smiled, picking up her hand and kissing it.

"Come to bed," Sista whispered.

"I have to finish these figures, sweetheart," Malcolm said.

"It late," Sista quietly whined

"I know, but I have to finish this. Captain Archer's temper hasn't been very pleasant since he's been sick, you know," Malcolm said.

Sista sighed. Suddenly she grabbed the PADD from his hand.

"Vardee," Malcolm said, standing up. He turned, grabbing for the PADD.

Sista smiled, backing toward the bedroom as she put one arm across her abdomen. She dropped the PADD down the front of her nightgown, smiling seductively at him.

"Oh no. I lost PADD. Now you have to find," then Sista disappeared into the bedroom.

Malcolm smiled, following her into their bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

"All hands report to stations! We are under attack!" The message blared across the communications, jolting Malcolm out of a dead sleep. And then _Enterprise_ rocked from a phase canon hit.

"All hands report to stations. We are under attack!" the message repeated. "Senior staff report to the bridge! Repeat we are under attack."

Malcolm jumped out of bed, reaching for his uniform. The ship rocked, throwing him against the bed. Malcolm snatched up his uniform, pulling it on without worrying about underwear or a shirt.

"I'll meet-- MALCOLM!" Sista yelled.

Malcolm turned. One of the green-eyed aliens he'd seen on the space dock aimed a phaser pistol at him, the end only inches from Malcolm's face

"Malcolm," Sista said.

The alien's aim moved to Sista. Malcolm smacked the alien's hand up and the blast blew a hole in the ceiling. The alien grabbed Malcolm by the throat, saying something, and the two were transported off _Enterprise_. Sista stared where her husband had been standing.

#

"Get that fire out, Ensign!" Trip yelled to a woman below him.

All around him crew were racing to put out fires and keep the warp core online.

"COMMANDER BEHIND YOU!" someone yelled.

Trip looked down at the person. An arm snapped around Trip's neck, pinning it back in a stranglehold. Something pressed against his neck and his vision began to grow fuzzy as he was transported off the ship.

#

Archer ran onto the bridge, looking at the view monitor. He grabbed the railing behind his chair when a chain of coughing racked his lungs and stole his breath away. Archer looked up when it was over, panting a little.

"Who are they?" Archer asked before coughing again.

"There are two Vulcan warships, a Cardassian war ship and a Klingon Bird of Prey," T'Pol reported, "I doubt that the occupants of the ships are any of those races."

The ship rocked.

"Returning fire," Ryce said.

Archer looked at him. "Did you and Malcolm get the disrupter bursts working, Ryce?"

"No, sir."

"CAPTAIN!" T'Pol yelled.

Someone grabbed Archer from behind in a strangle hold, pressing something against his neck. Archer heard what sounded like a gorilla roar and then he and whoever had him were thrown to the floor. The world around Archer started blurring and he felt as if his body was dead weight. Archer rolled his head to the side, seeing Ryce had an alien pinned to the floor with his hands wrapped around the alien's throat. The alien's black, scaly hands were trying to pull Ryce's hands off.

'_Don't kill him, Ryce_,' was Archer's last thought as his eyes closed.

#

"Captain."

Archer opened his eyes, focusing on the center light of the bridge. His eyes focused on Ryce on his left and finally on Doctor Phlox.

The doctor smiled. "Get up slowly. The narcotic he injected you with is some sort of paralyzing sedative. You're bound to feel the effects of it."

Archer let Doctor Phlox and Ryce help him to his feet and into his chair. Archer closed his eyes; feeling like his world was floating. Archer looked up at the view monitor, seeing _Enterprise_ was changing course to port, the direction Archer felt like he was floating. Archer closed his eyes to resist the urge to vomit.

"Straighten out soon, Travis," Archer said. He coughed, setting off his headache again.

"Aye, sir," Travis said

"What happened?" Archer asked and then coughed hard until he was breathless. Archer sank back against the chair, muttering, "Well, we know whatever he gave me doesn't do much for the flu."

"The aliens broke their attack as soon as the one on the bridge transported away. They kidnapped Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker, however," T'Pol answered. "And have masked their warp signatures so we cannot pursue them."

Archer swallowed. "Where are we going?"

"Back to Rakix," T'Pol replied. "You had mentioned that you had seen these aliens on the space dock. It stands to reason that others may be there or that someone may know about them and their motives."

"That stands to reason." Archer opened his eyes and quickly shut them when the stars flying past on view monitor made his stomach turn. He coughed a couple more times.

"You should lie down, Captain," Doctor Phlox said.

Archer nodded, but didn't move. He felt a hand on his arm and looked up at Doctor Phlox.

"I will alert you if we have any more trouble or reach Rakix, Captain," T'Pol promised.

Archer stood and swayed. He felt Doctor Phlox's hand take his arm and Ryce gently held onto his other arm. Archer let them walk him to the lift and leaned back against the wall. His stomach threatened to rebel when the lift began its descend.

"Almost there," Doctor Phlox said.

The lift stopped and Archer felt the two leading him down the hall. Archer looked at Ryce.

"You didn't kill him, did you, Ryce?" Archer asked.

"You ordered me not to, sir, " Ryce said, looking up at Archer.

Archer stared at Ryce. "What?"

"You said, 'Don't kill him, Ryce.' I obeyed."

"I said that?"

"You did, sir."

"I thought..."

"I did not kill him as you requested, sir," Ryce said. "But when we were taking him to the Brig he was transported off the ship, he escaped."

"Enter your code, Captain," Doctor Phlox said.

Archer looked at his door and entered his code. Ryce waited at the door while Phlox guided Archer to his bed. Archer was asleep before Doctor Phlox's hand let go of his arm.

#

The transport ship's impulse engine wound down as the vessel landed. Inside a door at the front of the transporter's hold opened and lights came on as three aliens with light green eyes, black scaly skin and hooded cloaks walked in. Along both sides of the hold were six stasis chambers. The tallest of the three aliens walked to the first stasis chamber nearest her. She pulled the PADD off the wall beside the stasis chamber and scanned the contents. She looked at the Klingon inside the stasis chamber, handing it to the man that had followed her.

"There is another Klingon on the other transport. Take them directly to the lines. They will fight without programming if threatened."

"There are four more on an incoming vessel," the man informed her.

"Do the same with them." She turned and walked around to the second stasis chamber, taking the PADD. She looked down at the man laying in it, noticing the spots that ran from his temple, down his neck and disappeared under the sheet. She looked at the PADD in her hand.

"He has a symbiont. Remove it and destroy it. Send him to camp 4J," she told the man, handing him the PADD. "How many Trills?"

"Doctor, removing the symbionts has been killing them."

"Tarti," she turned, facing the man, "We only sell sound, fully reprogrammed, soldiers and personnel. Those damned symbionts have cost us a lot of money because they've made their hosts remember their lives. How many Trills?"

"Six."

"Do the same to them."

"Yes, Doctor," Tarti replied.

The Doctor turned and walked around to the third stasis chamber. She stared at Trip's face. "We have Varlikons?"

Tarti looked at the PADD in his hand. "None have been reported, Doctor."

She pulled the PADD off the wall, reading the contents more carefully. "An unknown species. Interesting." She changed screen. "Profile looks promising. He has military training. Ahh, he has a compassionate streak. We'll use that to get to him. Requisition two droids and model them to look like his species. I think, with this psyche profile, we'll use a wife and child to help with the programming. If his kind is anything like the Varlikon then we'll have to put him through re-programming two or three times before it takes." She changed screens. "High logical tests. Says he was an engineer on some ship." She handed Tarti the PADD. "Send him to hospital five. I'll watch this one personally in case we get more later."

"There is one more over here, Doctor." Tarti motioned to a stasis chamber across the hold.

She walked over to the stasis chamber Malcolm was in, taking the PADD off the wall. She read through the information, nodding a couple times.

"This one attacked two of the guards during interrogation and secured a weapon before they subdued him, but he is a weapons specialist. Send him to a training camp and put him through programming. I hope he takes. He'll sell for a good price."

"Should we exceed normal programming attempts with him?"

"No. I'll decide what to do with him if he doesn't take." She turned, looking at the stasis chamber next to Trip. "Andorians? How many of those did our stupid scouts get?"

"Six."

"Send them to the lines with the Klingons." She walked over to a stasis chamber, staring down at the Vulcan. "How many Vulcans?"

"The rest are Vulcan and Andorians?"

"One Ferengi and Cardassian," Tarti replied.

"Send the Cardassian to the lines. Destroy the Vulcans immediately and if the Ferengi doesn't take after the first attempt, destroy him too," the Doctor walked toward the exit. "The next transporter should be here."

She turned and left the hold with Tarti trailing behind her.

#

"Wake up, soldier!" a voice yelled.

He sat up, hitting his head on the bunk above him. He sank back a few centimeters, staring at the man standing next to the bunks. The man had his fists pressed against his hips and his green eyes glared at him. He looked around the barracks filled with other soldiers standing at the foot of their bunks at attention. He had no idea where he was.

"GET OUT OF BED, PRIVATE REEEEED!" the man yelled.

Malcolm jumped out of bed and quickly took his place at the end of the bunk beside another soldier. There was a vague sense of familiarity about what was happening, like he'd done it before but a long, long time ago. That's where the familiarity ended. The dozen emotionless faces that surround him were as alien in familiarity as they were in appearance.

The yelling man walked around to stand in front of Malcolm.

"Problem with wake up call, Private?" the man snarled at him.

"No, sir," he replied. Malcolm looked straight ahead so he wouldn't have to stare into those hateful green eyes in front of him.

"You like sleeping do you?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Because you're going to spend the next forty-eight hours cleaning the latrine!"

"Yes, sir."

"On the exercise field in five minutes, _ladies_!" the man yelled, storming toward the door.

The door slammed shut and the man next to Malcolm turned to him. He had blue skin and eyes with a bone ridge that ran from his chin over the top of his head.

"You never sleep through wake up," he said.

Malcolm looked at the man, trying to remember the face next to him. "I..."

"Are you okay?"

He was shaking his head before he answered. "I can't remember...who was that?"

"Stop it, Malcolm. Get dressed and hurry or you're going to get front patrol next."

"Front patrol?" Malcolm looked down. Was he supposed to know that term? His name felt familiar. The jargon being thrown around had an odd sense of familiarity and yet it sounded wrong--like he'd learned another definition for the words, or different words for the definitions? His mind whirled, trying hard to remember something, anything, beyond his name.

The soldier appeared again. "Hurry up."

Malcolm turned to him. "I can't remember anything. I don't know you."

"Malcolm...we left port together. We passed exams together. You know me."

"I don't...no...I can't remember anything." Malcolm closed his eyes, feeling a spike of pain race across his forehead. He remembered a face but he couldn't remember it enough to put a name to it. It was a woman with short black hair and green eyes that sparkled with her angelic smile. He remembered her confessing her love to him and he knew that he loved that face in return. She was someone he could trust even if her name was far away right now.

A knife of pain suddenly stabbed into Malcolm's temples. Malcolm felt dizzy and grabbed the bunk bed for support. His knees buckled, sending him to the floor. Malcolm saw the soldier kneel down beside him and his mouth moving, and then the world went black.

#

"Private Charles Tucker," a voice said.

He opened his eyes, finding the world was blurry around him. He closed his eyes, wondering why he felt so cold.

"Daddy?" a voice said.

Trip felt a hand on his arm.

"Let him wake up, honey," a woman said.

Trip turned his head, opening his eyes again. A tall blonde woman was standing by his bed with her arms hugging back a brown-haired boy. Both were smiling at him.

"Daddy?" the boy said.

"Daddy?" Trip said, closing his eyes. "I'm..." Trip looked up at the ceiling.

"Private Tucker," a voice said and another woman came into his line of sight. "Hello. I'm Doctor Utori. How are you feeling?"

"Where am I?" Trip stared at the doctor. She looked nothing like the woman and child. She had green eyes and black, scaly skin. She wore a hooded cloak. Something in Trip warned him to be wary of the woman.

"Frideron Base hospital. Do you remember what happened?"

Trip shook his head. "No." Trip glanced at the woman and boy.

"This is your wife and son. Do you remember them?"

"No."

"Mr. Tucker?"

Trip looked at Doctor Utori. "My name..." Trip looked away, trying to remember what he was about to say.

"Your name?" Doctor Utori asked. "Do you remember your name?"

"Trip. It's Trip."

"It's Charles, honey," the blond woman said.

Trip looked at her. "My friends call me Trip."

"Well, we'll sort it all out," Doctor Utori said reassuringly, more toward the woman.

"What happened? How'd I get here? Why can't I remember anything?" Trip looked at Doctor Utori. "My name...I remember that. I can't remember anything else. Even my..." Trip looked at the woman and boy.

"You were on the front and a plasma grenade hit your position," Doctor Utori explained, "You were thrown nearly twenty meters and cracked your armor helmet. You suffered a substantial head injury."

Trip looked up at her. "My head doesn't hurt."

"No. You were in a coma for about two months," Doctor Utori explained.

Trip looked at the woman and child. Each time he looked at them he felt a little more certain that they weren't his family.

"You should probably get some rest," Doctor Utori said.

Trip looked at her. "I can't remember anything, Doc."

"You'll remember eventually. It will all come back."

"When?"

"I don't know. Amnesia is strange like that."

Trip sighed, closing his eyes. His mind was trying to put parts of his past back together, but there just weren't enough pieces. Trip heard the doctor and the woman and child leaving.

"I have a friend," Trip said, opening his eyes. He propped himself up on his elbows. "I can't remember his last name. His first name is Jonathan." Trip looked at the women

The women exchanged looks. The blonde turned and walked back to Trip's bedside. She smiled sadly, reaching out and stroking his hair back.

"Captain Jonathan Archer and you were in the trenches together, Charles. When the grenade hit, he was killed."

Trip lay back down, staring at her. He could see Jonathan's face in his mind. Trip closed his eyes, feeling her hand slide into his.

"I'm sorry. You two were good friends."

Trip shook his head. "No. No." Trip looked at her, pulling his hand away. "No. This is all wrong. This is wrong!"

"Honey, please. Don't frighten Jacob."

"Don't frighten Jacob!" Trip looked from the boy to the woman. "He's not my son! You're not my wife!"

The woman reached for him and he jerked away, scrambling out of bed to get away from her. Trip watched two men walk into the room with the doctor. They also had black scaly skin, green eyes and wore hooded cloaks. There was something vaguely familiar about them and they made him feel even more certain this woman was not his wife, the child was not his son and he wasn't where he was supposed to be.

"You need to calm down, Private Tucker," Doctor Utori said.

Trip watched the men advance toward the bed. Trip vaulted across the bed and bolted for the door. The two men tackled him, wrestling him to the floor until they had him pinned down. Trip screamed in rage, struggling to push them off. He felt something press against his neck, there was a soft whoosh sound and the world started to become blurry and feel far away.

"Relax, Charles. I'll be here when you wake up," a voice said and he felt a hand on his cheek.

"T'Pol," Trip whispered, falling asleep with her name on his lips.

#

Archer stopped and looked back down the hall of the docking station. He saw a cloaked figure quickly turn away, pretending not to be watching him. Archer sniffed and coughed a little as he pulled out his communicator and opened it. He lifted the communicator up, keeping an eye on the figure.

"I'm being followed," Archer said into the communicator. Archer lowered the communicator to cough a couple times

"Is it one of the aliens?" T'Pol asked.

"I can't tell. He keeps turning away when I look back."

"I have your location. Where shall I meet you?"

Archer heard a quiet beep and opened his breast pocket. The timer Doctor Phlox had sent him with was going off. "Great," Archer said.

"What is it?" T'Pol asked.

Archer didn't realize he had his communicator still active. "Drugs almost worn off. We have less than a half hour to get information and get out of here. There's a bar with some sort of red symbol over the door. Meet me in there."

"Acknowledged," T'Pol said.

Archer walked into the bar and took a seat at the end of the bar so he could watch the door. He kept his eyes on the door, watching for the cloaked figure that was following him.

"What can I get you?"

Archer turned, finding a Ferengi waiting for his order.

"I'm waiting for someone," Archer said.

"You should have a drink. Then she'll be prettier when she gets here."

Archer smiled, amused by the Ferengi' humor. He reached into his leg pocket and pulled out a slip of latinum.

"What do you have?" Archer said.

The Ferengi smiled a toothy grin. "You're new to this quadrant, aren't you?"

Archer smiled. "Yeah."

"You should try a Black Hole," the Ferengi suggested.

Archer nodded, glancing back. He saw the cloaked figure sitting near the door. The figure turned away, but not before Archer caught a glimpse of his face. Archer had reviewed the video record of the alien attacks in engineering and on the bridge prior to leaving _Enterprise_. They all looked the same; black, scaly skin; bright green eyes with no pupils; and black hooded cloaks. He had no way of telling if this one was either of the two that had boarded his ship and kidnapped his munitions officer and chief engineer. Archer looked around when he heard a glass clink on the bar, smiling at the Ferengi behind the bar. Archer reached in his pocket and put three more slips of latinum down on the bar, leaning toward the alien.

"Tell me everything you know about the guy in the hooded cloak back there by the door. The one with black scales and green eyes."

The alien leaned on the bar. "The Caritek?" The alien said.

"Excuse me?"

"That's the race. They're something of bounty hunters. Seems that one has his eye on you."

"Seems that way." Archer sipped the drink and resisted making a face of disgust. He swallowed the strong liquor. "Now why would he be interested in me?"

The Ferengi shrugged, turning away to leave. Archer played his game, setting another slip of latinum on the bar.

The bartender leaned on the bar, smiling a grin that was filled with razor sharp teeth. "How many of these do you have?"

Archer returned the smile, "Now why would he be interested in me?"

"They're bounty hunters for everything. Money, women...lately they've been collecting soldiers for some war."

"Really? So which would you say he's more interested in? My money, my women, or just me?"

The Ferengi and Archer chuckled together. Archer watched the Ferengi look up and a hungry grin covered his face. T'Pol sat down on the stool next to Archer.

"Hello, darling. Everything go well?" Archer asked T'Pol.

T'Pol nodded once, saying nothing when Archer slid his arm around her waist.

"Maybe your woman," the Ferengi said with a look of pleasure as his eyes undressed T'Pol.

Archer faked a laugh when the Ferengi laughed.

"Probably. Tell me about this war. Sounds profitable." Archer forced down another sip of his drink.

"Profitable!" the bartender scoffed. "If it were profitable, every Ferengi in the galaxy would be jumping on it."

"Running guns can be profitable."

"And dangerous. We don't believe of a mixing death and profit. Rule of Acquisition number one hundred and twenty-five; you can't make a deal if you're dead. You can't take profit with you when you're dead, and your wives and children fight over it for generations!"

Archer nodded, sipping the drink. "They can be that way." He swallowed the sip, starting to feel a little lightheaded as the alcohol and drug in his system began to mix. He had to get this over fast. "Still...I have some arms I need to get rid of. A war would be a good place to sell 'em. Soon-to-be-dead buyers don't ask stupid questions."

"Why not talk to him?" The Ferengi nodded toward the Caritek.

Archer smiled at the Ferengi. "You just thought he was after my woman. What if it's my money?"

"Or your life." The Ferengi leaned on the bar again. "Shame to lose all three at once, but I don't know anything."

Archer placed two more slips on the bar.

"For the lady?" the Ferengi asked.

Archer nodded once, watching the Ferengi pocket the slips. The bartender retrieved a Black Hole for T'Pol and sat it down in front of her. She sipped it, holding her composition well despite the awful tasting drink.

"A Vulcan that likes a Black Hole!" The Ferengi laughed, and then added, "The war's in the Darak system, about ninety light years from here. Some revolution that's been going on for a couple hundred years and they're running short of bodies to put in front of plasma grenades and behind phasers. The Caritek are the ones supplying both sides with soldiers so long as both sides keep paying. They would be your best bet for a sale. Just watch they don't try taking your ship, or your woman, or your latinum."

"Thanks for the tip," Archer sat another slip of latinum on the bar. "Best keep this conversation between us."

"Just don't come looking for me if you end up with only your life."

Archer lifted his glass to the Ferengi, watching him walk away.

"Let's get out of here," Archer said to T'Pol.

The two got up, Archer sliding his arm around T'Pol's shoulders to steady himself as they walked to the launch pad. Archer dropped into a back seat, putting his head in his hands.

"You'd better get us back, T'Pol," Archer told her.

T'Pol closed the hatch and sat down in the pilot's seat, preparing the shuttle pod for launch.

"I never want another Black Hole in my life," Archer growled.

T'Pol looked at him. "You appeared to be enjoying it."

Archer shot T'Pol a look of daggers. "About as much as you enjoyed my arm around your waist, I'm sure."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "I assumed you were passing us off as a couple to the Ferengi."

"No. To the Caritek. Why would I care about the Ferengi?" Archer asked, looking up as they cleared the atmosphere. "He had a loose enough jaw as long as I kept passing him latinum."

"In the manner you were discussing financial matters with him I assumed you must have familiarized yourself with the Ferengi culture, and were therefore attempting to make him feel more comfortable with my presence."

Archer coughed a couple times, laying his forehead in his hands. Archer shook his head. "Funny. I've met humans that are like that Ferengi."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow, but said nothing in return.

CHAPTER 3


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Trip opened his eyes, staring out the window in front of him. Outside he could see a manicured lawn with flowers blooming and a breeze swaying the tree limbs. Trip looked down at the restraints around his wrists and ankles. He closed his eyes, trying to remember his name. This time it came much faster than last time. And he could remember his friend Jonathan Archer, but the only thing that followed it was the strong sense that he was not where he belonged. He couldn't remember anything else beyond that.

Trip opened his eyes when he heard the door open, but he didn't look toward it.

"Good morning sweetheart."

Trip turned his head watching the blonde who'd been introduced as his wife walk up to the bed. The thought flashed through his mind that her clothes were not familiar to him any more than this room or the city beyond the window.

"I don't remember your name," Trip said.

"Jestine. Jestine Tucker."

Trip forced a smile. "How long have we been married?"

"It will be five years at the change of the season."

Trip nodded, looking out the window.

"Jacob was excited to see you."

"Wish I could remember him."

"You get to stay in the city for a while before they send you back to the front," she said, laying her hand on Trip's arm.

Trip didn't reply. This felt so wrong. He felt like he should be somewhere else and yet he couldn't remember where that was.

"It'll be alright, honey. You'll remember everything."

"Will I?" Trip asked.

"Yes." Jestine smiled when Trip looked at her. "Everything..." Jestine looked down, tugging on the handkerchief in her hand, "Including her."

Trip tensed. "Her who?"

"The spy."

"What spy?"

"The one you...you said her name last night."

"T'Pol?" Trip recalled the name like it was his own. There was a strong sense that this name and the person who belonged to it was someone he knew and he desperately wanted to see her.

Jestine nodded. "She was a spy from the other side."

"Are you in the military?" Trip asked Jestine.

"No."

"How do you know all this then?"

"They thought if I knew some of the assignments you were on, the ones that have been de-classified anyway, I might be able to help you remember things."

Trip hesitated. While his memories may be caught up in a fog somewhere in his mind, he knew that her explanation wasn't right. Yet, she had information on T'Pol. He had to know what she knew. "What did she have to do with anything?"

"They asked you to flush her out. You posed as a general and eventually they caught her and killed her."

"Why would I remember her?"

"You two..." Jestine looked down with a tight smile. "Well, the two of you were close right up to the end, they said. Very close."

That sounded right to Trip, the part about T'Pol and he being very close. But his mind was resisting believing anything else Jestine was saying as a truth.

"She was killed?" Trip asked.

"Yes. You exposed her and they killed her. You're going back to retrain in a week."

Trip looked at her. "Retrain?"

"For military. They need people on the front. Especially engineers."

"I'm a soldier?"

"You're an engineer. Better than a soldier, but not quite. They decided to retrain you since you can't remember much."

"Probably best," Trip agreed, but again his mind was resisting this information as being truth. Yes, he was an engineer, but not in the military. And he had never fought in a war.

Jestine slid her hand into Trip's. "I'm going to miss you. I was hoping they'd let you stay since you were hurt."

Trip squeezed her hand. That felt wrong. He didn't have any feelings for her. Jestine leaned down and kissed him. Trip didn't kiss her back. He suddenly remembered kissing T'Pol. Trip looked away when Jestine stood up again.

"Get some rest. I'll bring Jacob by later to see you."

Trip nodded. He waited for Jestine to leave before trying to work out the black holes in his memories.

#

"He's not responding to the drugs at all," a technician said to Doctor Utori.

She stood on the other side of the observation window, watching Malcolm fight against his restraints.

"It all starts out the same every time we administer the tiraxiol," the technician continued. "Last time it was an hour before he remembered anything. And then, as before, he remembers everything again. We can't keep doing this. The tiraxiol levels are getting dangerously high. Another injection might kill him."

Doctor Utori didn't reply for several minutes. "What is the first thing he always seems to remember?"

"His wife."

"Wife?" Doctor Utori looked at the technician. "We didn't arrange a wife for him."

"His real wife."

"He had a wife? Who missed that!?"

The technician attempted to answer.

"Doesn't matter." Doctor Utori looked at Malcolm. "It's too late to go back. Once we stop the treatment he'll build a resistance like the others."

"Shall we terminate him?"

"No. I don't want him dead yet. He knows about some powerful weaponry. We need him for now. Continue collecting information and if he won't cooperate, use alternative methods until he does. Once we have all we can get...then we'll drop him in a pit to let him decide how this will end."

Doctor Utori turned and left the room. The technician walked through a door to his right, calling the people in the room with Malcolm.

Malcolm watched them leave and relaxed some. He closed his eyes.

"Vardee," Malcolm whispered. "Where are you?"

#

Archer woke up coughing. He rolled onto his side, trying to catch his breath the coughing fit had stolen. Archer sat up and walked through his dark quarters to the bathroom to get a drink of water. He heard Porthos growl and looked back. Porthos yipped and then it was silent. Archer sat the glass down, walking into the room.

"Port?" Archer coughed a little.

He didn't hear the click-click of Porthos' nails on the floor.

"Computer lights," Archer said.

Suddenly he was thrown to the floor from behind.

"SECURITY!" Archer screamed when he felt something press against his neck. Then the world went black.

The door slid open and the Caritek that had Archer pinned down looked up. Ryce charged the Caritek, throwing him off Archer and ripping his combadge off his shirt. Ryce threw it across the room, watching it transport away.

"YOU AGAIN!" The Caritek yelled when he saw Ryce's face.

Ryce snarled, struggling to hold the Caritek down. Another security guard had run in behind Ryce. He knelt down, checking Archer's pulse. He found one and ran over to the companel.

"Lieutenant Porter to Sick bay."

"Sick bay," a person responded.

"We need a medical team in the Captain's quarters. He was attacked again."

"On our way."

Lieutenant Porter turned, seeing the Caritek press the hypospray against Ryce's arm even as the two fought. Lieutenant Carter ran back to Archer's side, watching the fight.

"You should be asleep!" The Caritek hissed suddenly.

"And you should be DEAD!" Ryce hissed back. Ryce brought his fist across the Caritek's face, knocking the alien unconscious. Ryce got to his feet, looking up when he heard Lieutenant Porter's phaser power up.

"Don't shoot. He may know where Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker are," Ryce told Lieutenant Porter.

"RYCE!" Lieutenant Porter said.

Ryce looked down, watching the Caritek transport away. "So much for that plan."

Lieutenant Porter lowered his weapon, looking down at Archer.

#

T'Pol walked into Sickbay, watching Doctor Phlox turn around to greet her.

"You requested to speak with me?" T'Pol asked, glancing across the room at the bio-bed Archer was asleep on.

"The drug the captain was injected with is a neurological inhibitor that was meant to block certain synapses within a _humanoid_ brain. I suspect they didn't chance on this particular chemical make up because it is too precise in mixture to be an accident."

T'Pol turned to look squarely at Doctor Phlox. "And why would they have injected him with this? The first drug they injected him was a narcotic sedative. Why did they not use it again?"

"My theory is that the drugs are supposed to be injected one after the other. The first drug is probably for taking the victim away easier or without much trauma. The second drug, the one that the Caritek injected the Captain with this time, is meant to disrupt brain function to make the victim more susceptible to brain washing. Perhaps they were trying to speed up the process this time, or perhaps they're trying to prevent us from finding our missing crewmen by debilitating our captain. Our experience with Ferengi are that they talk quite well when paid enough."

"Has the drug affected the Captain?"

"Yes. He woke up about twenty minutes ago hysterical and unable to remember anything. I sedated him for the time being. However, the foreign influenza he has is attacking and destroying the drug proteins as if they were white blood cells. I don't believe that the drug will last as long as it is supposed to. I have been giving him very low dosages of antibiotic to keep the virus from getting out of control, but I don't want to eradicate it until the drug is consumed."

"He will become more symptomatic without the antibiotic to counteract the virus, Doctor."

"Yes. He will."

"Doctor Phlox, this situation is unacceptable."

Doctor Phlox smiled. "You won't hear an argument from me, Commander, but better influenza than a captain with amnesia."

T'Pol lifted her chin. "Is there a chance he will have his memory back by the time we reach the Caritek home world?"

"How long is it going to be before we reach the system?"

"Another eight hours."

"Perhaps. Or he may still not know his own name in eight hours."

T'Pol looked at Archer. "Keep me posted."

"Yes, Commander."

T'Pol turned and left Sickbay, careful to mask her displeasure of the situation at hand.

#

Archer opened his eyes, staring at the lights above him. Something was telling him they should be familiar, but he couldn't find the answer as to why.

"Captain?"

Archer watched a face appear and stop beside him. Archer stared at the face, trying to remember who this was and unable to.

"Who are you?" Archer croaked. He coughed and that set off his headache.

"More importantly, do you know how you are?" the person asked.

Archer very slightly shook his head.

The man smiled. "I am Doctor Phlox. I know you aren't feeling well, but we don't have much time. Let's see if we can't get some memories back, shall we?"

Archer nodded.

"Do you know where you're at?"

Archer shook his head.

"This is the U.S.S. Enterprise NX-0_1_. Do you remember anything about this ship?"

Archer started to shake his head. He stopped, slowly answering, "We can go warp five and the Vulcans can go warp six point five."

Doctor Phlox smiled, nodding. Doctor Phlox retrieved a stool and sat down beside the bio-bed. "What else can you remember?"

Archer closed his eyes. All this thinking was making his head hurt. "I've been sick for a week."

"Yes. You have been."

Archer's eyes popped open and he looked at Doctor Phlox. "Do I have a dog?"

"Yes. Do you remember his name?"

Archer smiled. "Porthos. I got him from..." Archer's smile faded. He looked away. "I don't remember."

"That's not important. It will come back eventually. Do you remember your name?"

"My name..." Archer trailed off. He winced when his headache flared. "My name... I can't remember my name Doctor."

"It's okay." Doctor Phlox patted his arm. "Let's see what else you do remember."

Archer smiled. "My best friend is on the ship. We call him Trip. That's not his name. His name is..." Archer looked down. "Charles Tucker the third."

"Very good."

Archer shook his head. "No. He's not on this ship."

"Where is he?"

Archer looked around the Sickbay. He closed his eyes for a few minutes. Through gritted teeth he growled, "I can't remember!"

"It's okay," Doctor Phlox said. "Go on to something else."

"We have other dogs on the ship," Archer looked at Doctor Phlox, hesitating. "No. No, that's not right. They're... Jit. They... They're Varlikon crossed with animal DNA."

"Very good. What of them?"

"There..." Archer closed his eyes. "There are eleven. They look like children but...they're older. The Varlikon made them for slaves and entertainment. They hunted them and made them fight...I remember everything about the Jit."

"Do you remember your name?"

Archer looked at Doctor Phlox, his face going blank. "I lived in San Francisco on earth before we left dock. My name..." Archer snarled. "I can't remember my name!"

"What else do you remember?"

"Trip isn't on this ship."

"Yes. You said that. Where is he?"

"He's..." Archer sighed. "I can't remember where he is. My munitions officer is Malcolm Reed. He has a temper on him and he's married to Sista...no...Vardee. Captain Vardee. She's one of the Jit," Archer smiled. "I handpicked all of my senior staff. Except T'Pol and you. She was assigned to us and we've had a time keeping her. She's part of the crew," Archer sat up.

"Here." Doctor Phlox raised the back of the bed so Archer could lean against it.

Archer leaned back, starting to shiver.

"Just a moment," Doctor Phlox said.

He walked to a cabinet and pulled out two blankets. Doctor Phlox brought them back and spread them over Archer.

"Captain Jonathan Archer is..." Archer trailed off, looking down. "Why do I know that name?"

Doctor Phlox slowly stood up, staring at Archer. "The drug is quite effective in inhibiting memories."

"Drug?" Archer looked at him. "What drug?"

"Can you remember the last thing that happened to you?"

Archer looked away. "Yes. I, uhm...I went to get a drink of water. Porthos started barking. His barking made my head hurt, but then he yipped. I went to find out why and was attacked and...that's all I remember," Archer looked at Doctor Phlox. "What happened to Porthos?"

"He's fine. He was locked in the closet."

"Good. I would have..." Archer shook his head, looking down. "I'm Archer...Jonathan Archer."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes," Archer said confidently, then with far less confidence. "I think."

"You must be certain before you say you are someone."

Archer closed his eyes, laying his head back against the bed. "My head's killing me."

Doctor Phlox picked up a hypospray and pressed it against Archer's neck. "This will help you get some rest. We'll continue this when you wake up."

Archer barely nodded his head, already falling asleep.

#

Archer heard two people talking quietly nearby. Archer opened his eyes, finding T'Pol and Doctor Phlox standing together, talking

"My name is Jonathan Archer. I'm captain of Starfleet's Enterprise NX-01. The Caritek have kidnapped Trip and Malcolm. And Porthos was a present from a friend."

T'Pol and Doctor Phlox both looked at him. Doctor Phlox smiled.

"Good morning, Captain. Welcome back."

Archer slowly got off the bed and wrapped the blankets around him. "We were supposed to be headed for Caritek. Where are we, T'Pol?" Archer walked toward the two, letting his eyes droop to keep the Sickbay lights from sharpening his headache

"We are holding position behind a moon just inside the Caritek solar system and out of their sensor range."

Archer started coughing so hard he had to sit down. He stopped.

"You really need to rest, Captain," Doctor Phlox advised.

"I'm getting Trip and Malcolm back. Those twins need their father and I _am_ getting my best friend back. Hopefully with all their memories intact."

"You remember what happened?"

"I remember you said something about drugs. That's what the Caritek gave me, right?"

"Yes."

"And it made me forget everything for a while?"

"Yes."

"What made me remember?"

"The influenza virus in a sense ate up the drug."

"If Trip and Malcolm were given the drug that I was given, will the virus cure them?"

"I don't know. You already have the virus and it began working on it's own before I discovered it."

"T'Pol, have you made any plans on finding out where our men are?" Archer coughed hard again. He looked up at T'Pol as soon as he'd stopped and caught his breath.

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"It has to do with the virus and the different physiology of the Jit," Phlox said.

"You're sending Jit in?"

"Yes."

"Sista isn't going."

"No she isn't," Doctor Phlox said. "She is allowing Ryce and Zintar to go. She's being level headed about this matter, considering."

Archer looked at Doctor Phlox, "And what happens when they get injected with this drug I was injected with?"

"I plan on injecting them with the virus before sending them to the surface. And then, hopefully, between the virus and their different physiology, they won't be affected by the drug."

Archer looked up at T'Pol, "As soon as they find Malcolm and Trip, come tell me. I'll be in my quarters."

"Captain, you really are in no shape to retrieve your crewmen. I strongly urge you to send someone else," Doctor Phlox said.

"I'm going, Doctor. End of conversation. You have your orders, T'Pol."

T'Pol turned and left the Sickbay.

Archer pulled the blankets closer around and began a slow walk to his quarters.

#

"...to Archer."

Archer woke slowly.

"T'Pol to Archer," T'Pol repeated.

Archer reached up and pressed the companel.

"What?"

"Ryce and Zintar have reported back, Captain," T'Pol said. "They have found where Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed are being held."

"I'm on my way," Archer said.

"Captain..." T'Pol started.

"Yes?"

There was a brief hesitation. "I'll have their reconnaissance report ready when you arrive."

Archer slowly climbed out of bed, his aching body complaining about simply moving. Archer dressed and headed for the bridge.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

Archer stared at the topographical map on the situation screen. "There aren't many places to land around there, are there?"

"Zintar and Ryce have designated an acceptable location. We'll have to attempt to get in under their sensors."

Archer looked up at the 3-D model. "Prepare to depart. I have to make a stop at Sickbay and we'll leave. Contact Zintar and Ryce."

"Yes, sir."

Archer turned to leave but stopped. He looked back at T'Pol.

"T'Pol."

T'Pol looked at him.

"I'm guessing when you called me earlier you wanted to object to my going?"

"Doctor Phlox feels you should remain aboard Enterprise and allow myself and another crewman to retrieve Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed. I agree with him."

"Thanks for the concern. Prepare to leave."

"Yes, Captain."

Archer left the situation room.

#

Rain began falling shortly after they had left the shuttle pod and had drenched T'Pol and Archer as they made their way toward the coordinates. The two reached the spot finding Zintar and Ryce waiting.

"Hold out your right hand, sir," Zintar said in a hushed voice.

Archer held out his hand. Zintar held a light over Archer's hand and a small dot glowed green. Zintar pulled a pair of tweezers from a pocket on his uniform and pulled off the spot, throwing it on the ground. Ryce aimed a phaser at it and shot it.

"We found out that's how they were able to track you on Enterprise, sir," Zintar explained. "They put them on all their _recruits_."

Archer's breath caught and he coughed to loosen it. He was feeling much worse than he had in several days.

"Recruits?" Archer asked.

"They locate humanoid aliens that would be suitable soldiers at space docks and market places and place these tracking devices on them. Then they go back when the aliens are least expecting them and kidnap them, brainwash them, train them as soldiers and sell them to the highest bidder."

"Nice slave trade," Archer muffled a light cough. "Have you located where my men are?"

"In the camp about a six hundred meters from here. We haven't been into the camp, sir. We just found their names on a computer in the city twenty kilometers west of here. They keep a close record of who the kidnapped soldiers are and where they come from so if they need to go back for medical records they can."

"How convenient," Archer snarled.

"We set the power grid to go off in ten minutes," Ryce said. "We'll have ten seconds to get in before it comes back on line."

"Once we get in, how do we get back out?" Archer asked.

Zintar held up a device. "These shut off individual power relays along the fence. But only from the inside for work crews."

"You two worked fast down here," Archer commented.

Zintar nodded. "We had to. Trip's scheduled to ship out in the morning. Malcolm is scheduled for disposal in two days. The file noted that he was resistance to tiraxiol, we assume that's the drug to make them forget, and was to be disposed of if they were unable to obtain any further weaponry information."

"That was in the files?"

"No," Ryce answered. "That was in the letter that the secretary of the general in charge of the camp was writing to some doctor while we were in bed yesterday morning."

Archer and T'Pol both looked at Ryce. Ryce smiled.

"I'm thirty-two, Captain. Remember?" Ryce asked.

"Someday I will. Lead the way, men."

The four traveled through the forest to where it stopped and opened onto a clearing two hundred meters wide. Beyond it a double fence of energy shielding surrounded a military training camp.

"When the lights go out, we have to hurry. We only have ten seconds," Zintar said.

The lights in the camp suddenly went out and the four ran behind a building and crouched down, waiting for the lights to come back on. The lights came back up and Ryce stood.

"Wait," Archer yanked Ryce back down.

"We have--"

"Let them check the perimeter and systems first, Ryce," Archer said.

Ryce crouched down, waiting beside Archer.

"We should take better cover until it's safe to move," T'Pol suggested.

Archer looked around. He pointed to a stack of crates next to a building. The four ran to the stack and slipped behind them to wait. Archer leaned against the building behind him, feeling his headache starting to come back. Archer closed his eyes, listening for approaching feet.

"Sir?" Zintar said.

"Hm?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. How long has it been?"

"Don't know."

"Guess."

"Fifteen minutes."

"You two don't know where Malcolm or Trip are?"

"No, sir."

"Perhaps we should go in groups of two," T'Pol suggested.

Archer stood up so he could see over the crates. "T'Pol and Zintar, take the right row. Ryce and I will take the left."

Archer waited for T'Pol and Zintar to disappear into the darkness and then led the way down the left row of barracks. They stopped in the door of each one, searching for Trip or Malcolm. Archer and Ryce stepped into a doorway as a transport came around the corner. The two pressed into the doorway, watching it pass. Archer looked inside, seeing bunks along the walls. At the back were two tables where several soldiers were playing cards.

"Found Trip," Archer whispered to Ryce.

Ryce leaned forward, immediately spotting Trip.

Archer opened his communicator. "T'Pol."

"Yes?" T'Pol whispered back.

"We're at the third to last barrack and we found Trip. Get over here."

"On our way."

Archer closed his communicator, slipping it back in his arm pocket. He kept his eyes on Trip, watching his best friend laughing and acting like he was among friends. Archer looked around when Zintar and T'Pol stepped into the doorway.

"Set to stun. Stun everyone except him."

"He may not remember us, Captain," T'Pol pointed out. "You didn't remember anything when you came to after being injected. He's been on this planet for two weeks and has most likely received the drug regularly."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Ready?"

The three nodded. Archer threw the door open and they ran in firing at soldiers until the only one left standing was Trip. Archer kept his phaser trained on Trip.

"Trip?"

"Who are you? How'd you know my name?" Trip asked.

Archer swallowed. T'Pol was right. Damn! Why did T'Pol have to be right?

"I'm Jonathan Archer, Trip. We've been friends for eleven years. I'm your captain aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise. We're from earth."

Trip didn't reply.

"You're my best friend, Trip. Please," Archer said through clenched teeth. "Please remember me," Archer coughed a little.

"They won't remain unconscious for much longer, Captain," T'Pol said, walking up behind Archer.

"She's a spy!" Trip hissed.

Trip reached for the phaser strapped to his leg and Archer fired. Trip fell unconscious to the floor. Archer walked up to Trip, pulling his phaser out of the holster.

"I'm so sorry, Charles," Archer whispered to Trip. Then louder, "T'Pol and Zintar, take him to the shuttle. We still have to find Malcolm."

"The soldiers will alert guards as soon as they awaken," T'Pol said.

"I'm not leaving without Malcolm," Archer coughed hard a couple of times and wiped his sweaty brow

"Sir, the medicine the doctor gave you is wearing off. You're going to give your position away if you continue searching the camp," T'Pol said. "Zintar and I--"

"T'Pol," Archer turned, facing her. "Take my friend to the shuttle. I'll be along shortly with Vardee's husband."

"No," Zintar said.

T'Pol and Archer looked at him. "What?"

"I said no, sir," Zintar said. "You leave with me and let T'Pol and Ryce get Malcolm. If you have a coughing fit they'll find you."

Archer coughed a little. He looked down at Trip.

"Don't come back without Malcolm, T'Pol," Archer told her.

T'Pol and Ryce left. Archer watched Zintar pick Trip up and sling him over his shoulder.

"Let's get back to the shuttle, sir," Zintar said, wrapping a hand around Archer's arm.

Archer didn't object to letting Zintar guide him. His world had begun to spin by the time the two reached the forest.

#

The two ran through the compound toward the brig, ducking in shadows any time a guard patrol came close or a patrol light swept in their direction. T'Pol stepped into the door of the brig, taking a quick survey of the receiving area beyond. T'Pol led Ryce around the corner, glancing at the covered vents in the ground as she and Ryce jogged past them.

"I saw only two guards, but there may be more," T'Pol said, looking back at the vents again. "Do you have a map of the sewer system? Perhaps one of those vents would lead into the brig."

Ryce pulled out the PADD again. He pulled up a map and his brow furrowed. "These vents aren't on the map, Commander."

"T'Pol?" a voice said. It was muffled to the point it was almost inaudible.

The two held their breaths, waiting to see if the person spoke again.

"T'Pol," a voice said again, "over here."

Ryce slowly moved in the direction of the voice.

"Speak again," Ryce said to the voice.

"Ryce?"

Ryce trotted toward the voice. He knelt down by one of the vents. Ryce looked up, motioning T'Pol to him. T'Pol ran over and knelt down. The vent turned out to be a metal covering with a digital lock on it. Ryce pulled a tricorder off of his belt and aimed it at the lock.

"Lieutenant Reed?" T'Pol leaned near the metal door.

"T'POL! Thank God!" Malcolm said from behind the door.

"We will have you out shortly, Lieutenant Reed," T'Pol said, looking around them.

Ryce found the combination and entered it. The two lifted the door back and T'Pol knelt down by the ledge. At the bottom of a ten foot, cement-lined, pit Malcolm stood in waist high water.

"Climb up, Lieutenant." T'Pol motioned to the ladder.

"I can't, T'Pol." Malcolm coughed, whimpering at the end. "My leg is broken."

"Keep watch," T'Pol ordered Ryce.

T'Pol stepped onto the ladder and climbed down, easing herself into the frigid waters at the bottom. The water was knee high on her and she waded through it toward Malcolm. T'Pol found Malcolm was sitting on a ledge. Malcolm looked up at T'Pol, his bruised and swollen face hiding his relief of seeing her.

"I'm pretty sure my ribs are broken and my lung's punctured," Malcolm whispered.

"We must go," T'Pol said, sliding her phaser in a holster on her side.

She leaned down and slid her arm around Malcolm's back. Malcolm put his arm around her shoulders, letting her help him to his feet. He whimpered when he accidentally put pressure on his broken leg. T'Pol and Malcolm both jumped when they heard a noise above. Ryce was climbing down the ladder. He stopped just inside the hole, watching the camp over the edge of the hole.

"There's activity." Ryce looked down at T'Pol. "I think the soldiers woke up, ma'am," Ryce whispered.

An alarm went off and well beyond the hole the compound lit up.

"Is there anywhere nearby to hide?" T'Pol asked.

"No, ma'am." Ryce reached up and did something to the locking mechanism. He reached out and closed the door.

"You're going to lock us in here, Ryce!" Malcolm scolded.

"I disabled the lock. They can't find the door open, sir."

"We could be here all day," Malcolm whispered.

"Sir, there are soldiers everywhere," Ryce said, his voice getting closer. "We're safer in here than we'll be out there."

T'Pol heard Ryce step into the water and walk toward the two of them. Ryce stepped onto the ledge and stood against the wall. T'Pol sat Malcolm back down on the ledge and sat down next to him to wait. T'Pol felt Malcolm's head drop against her shoulder.

"Lieutenant Reed?" T'Pol said.

Malcolm didn't reply.

"Malcolm," T'Pol said.

Malcolm didn't reply.

"What's wrong?" Ryce asked.

"He's lost consciousness."

T'Pol rested Malcolm against the wall. She stepped onto the ledge and stood beside Ryce.

#

Zintar turned away from Trip to Archer on the other side. Archer was shivering from chills even with seven thermal blankets. Zintar aimed a tricorder at Archer and frowned when his temperature read forty degrees Celsius. Archer's temperature had been steadily climbing over the last five hours and Zintar didn't know what to give him to bring it back down. Zintar turned back to Trip, checking his vitals.

"Where are we?" Archer whispered.

Zintar turned back to him, "Captain?"

"Where are we?" Archer looked up at him.

"Still on the planet. We're waiting for T'Pol, Ryce and Malcolm. Do you wish us to continue waiting?"

"Yes," Archer whispered.

"For how much longer?"

"Until the baseball game's over," Archer whispered. "Then we'll go pick mom up from work, okay dad? Just until the game's over."

Zintar sat down, staring at Archer. It was the first signs of delirium he'd had since he'd been sick, warranting Zintar's concern and explaining the strange emotions he'd been feeling from Archer in the last hour.

"Okay, dad? Can we wait until the game's over? They're in the final quarter. I've waited all week to watch this hockey game."

"Yes. When the game's over," Zintar answered. He sat down on the floor with a heavy sigh.

#

Dim light filled the hole as Ryce lifted the cover up a couple centimeters.

"It's clear." Ryce looked back down at them. He climbed out, opening the cover.

"Are you conscious, Lieutenant?" T'Pol asked Malcolm

"Yes."

"We must go now."

"Help me," Malcolm said.

T'Pol slid her arm around Malcolm, lifting him to his feet. They waded to the ladder and T'Pol followed close behind Malcolm to help him up the ladder. At the top Ryce grabbed Malcolm's arms and helped him over the ledge onto the ground. T'Pol got out and closed the lid, minding to stay low to the ground.

"We have to hurry," T'Pol said.

"Hurry?" Malcolm questioned.

"As best we can," T'Pol answered.

T'Pol slid his arm around Malcolm and helped him to his feet. The three made their way to the energy field surrounding the compound. Ryce aimed a device at a relay and started working on it until the relay turned off.

"Ryce, assist Lieutenant Reed on his other side," T'Pol ordered.

Ryce slid an arm around Malcolm's other side and the three disappeared into the forest, heading toward the shuttle pod.

#

His quarter door opening and closing woke him, but he didn't roll over to greet the person. The person walked up to the bed, sat something down and then walked away. Porthos trotted across the room when his dog food bag rustled and then there was food being poured into his metal bowl. The bowl made a soft ting of metal against metal when the person sat the bowl on the floor. The door opened.

"Wait," Archer said with a hoarse voice. He swallowed and grimaced when he found his throat was raw. Archer coughed a couple times.

The door closed and the person approached the bed again.

"You are awake?" T'Pol asked.

Archer looked over his shoulder at her. He coughed before answering her. "Yes."

"I have brought your meal." T'Pol motioned down beside her

Archer rolled onto his back, staring at the tray sitting on the chair by his bed. He looked up at T'Pol.

"I remember landing and being at the shuttle, but nothing after that."

"You were running a high fever when we returned to the shuttle pod and were delirious."

"How long ago was that?"

"Four days. You've been asleep since."

"Where are we?"

"We've returned to our original course."

"How's Trip?"

"Ill with the virus. So far he can only recall a few memories."

"And Malcolm?"

"Lieutenant Reed is still in Sickbay. He has serious injuries, but Doctor Phlox has assured me he will survive. He said he was tortured for information regarding weapons technology and does not believe he told them much."

"Why didn't they make him forget?" Archer asked.

"Doctor Phlox did find traces of the drug in his blood, confirming that they attempted to make him forget who he was."

"Why didn't he forget?"

T'Pol's eyebrow raised. "He said he could not forget Vardee. No matter what they tried, he remembered her and held onto that memory. I do not understand why that made the difference, but Doctor Phlox says he understands and agrees."

Archer nodded. "How is everything else? How's my ship?"

"I have completed and sent a report of this incident to Starfleet. They are aware that you are incapacitated at the moment and under Doctor Phlox's orders to remain in bed for another week. Admiral Garner has requested you to contact him as soon as you are well enough. If you would like, I can bring reports for you to review."

Archer nodded his head slightly. "Maybe in a few days. Not now."

"As you wish. Contact me if you need anything else."

"Thank you T'Pol," Archer whispered.

"You are welcome. Is that all?"

"Yes, T'Pol.

"Rest well." T'Pol turned and left the room.

Archer rolled back onto his side and fell asleep.


End file.
